


Reeling.

by orphan_account



Series: Fleeting [5]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alcoholism, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-03
Updated: 2012-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-11 09:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce never wanted to be found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reeling.

A snap of a tree branch as loud as thunder sounds off in Bruce’s ear, and on instinct he’s rolling to the opposite direction away from it. His eyes search the canopy for the source. It’s not much use, though, because his glasses were compromised during his last Incident.

“Bruce.” The mechanical voice throws him for a loop before the sun glints off red metal pieced off by the underbrush to the side of him. Bruce hikes up the scraps of his pants and stands up, starts backing away. He does not want to be triggered again. The last Hulk out still has him light-headed. Finding pounds of food to restore the energy is impossible when he’s been finding things a handful at a time. Tony takes another step towards him, Bruce takes another step back.

“How did you find me?”

Tony pulls his mask up and Bruce thinks he can eke out a slight flash of Hollywood white teeth. “Pretty easy, actually. Found the tracker that was in your laptop lodged in a rock, and I followed the trail of smashed trees right to you!” He’s moving oddly, like the suit is overcorrecting for something—Bruce’s eyes get wider but he blinks it away, maybe he’s seeing things, surely Tony isn’t that much of a fucking idiot.

Bruce feels something hit his temple, and he has to pat the ground to find whatever it was. His pants slide down his backside and he pulls them up with a jerk of irritation. He swears he can feel Tony’s sneer at his vulnerability searing the back of his neck. Once he gets his hand on what was thrown at him he knows they’re his glasses, and he hurriedly puts them on. They’re cracked on both lenses, but he’d rather see Tony in different angles than completely blurry. “… Thank you.”

Tony claps him on the back, and he probably doesn’t realize how hot his suit is from flying around. He only winces a little, though, especially because Tony already had to see him… like this. Crawling around like some horribly adjusted animal. “Well, Brucey, we gotta go.”

Bruce laughs, but Tony isn’t smiling. “No, Tony. You don’t get to come flying and retrieve me just because you can.” The metal hand closes around his wrist to pull him to his feet, and his skin flares with pain. “Tony!” Tony lets go, and looks appropriately horrified with himself, like he’s not aware of his own strength, or for that matter, anything. Bruce stands up and once he’s somewhat level with him he can see it, the glaze in his eyes, the way his mouth is too slack. “Oh my God. You’re drunk, aren’t you?” Tony looks down at his feet, and Bruce scoffs.  “You’re unbelievable. You mind telling me what the fuck you’re thinking?”

“I’m here to save you.” Tony puts his hand on his hands on his hips in some attempt to be a knight in shining armor and then stumbles backwards, and Bruce laughs humorlessly. Tony seems to be offended by that, though, and Bruce takes a step back again when he catches the dark flash in his eyes. “SHIELD called me. Said you were too close to Rio de Janiero, something about you being a safety hazard.” Tony looks into his eyes. “I wouldn’t give them your location.”

“Was that supposed to be a favor?” Tony leers at him, and Bruce feels ice crawl up his spine, even though his skin is bright with sunburn from losing the protection of his shirt.

“They were going to call the Hulkbusters, Bruce.” Bruce looks at Tony, head to his chest like he just hates being the harbinger, and shakes his head and narrows his eyes.

“No. They wouldn’t do that. I don’t believe you, Tony.” He’s backing away faster and faster, hoping that maybe if he can get out of Tony’s range of sight he can dive right back in the underbrush and become lost again. In one leap Tony’s hand is closed around his wrist, and his spine arches as pain shoots through his nerves. The Hulk is looking through his eyes, waiting in his skull, and Bruce clenches his teeth to keep him at bay. His breaths come harsh and ragged through his nose. “Let. Me. Go.”

Something about the staccato or the low thrum suddenly in his voice must have gotten to Tony’s head, because he is released back onto the soft peat, dirt sinking in his knees. “I’m not lying.” Bruce is wary of the sudden sincerity, but he isn’t trying to back away from him. Tony looks up like the light of the sun will make him stop the glassiness of his eyes from spilling over. “I know—I know I fucked a lot of things up, okay? But Fury—he called, and I reacted. I had to find you, Bruce. Immediately. You’ve been running away from Ross and his jarheads from day one. I didn’t want them to find you and ki—“ Tony cuts off with a swallow, and Bruce gives him the grace of looking away. “Fury said SHIELD won’t bother you if you just come back to the tower.”

“So you can keep an eye on me? Fuck that.” Bruce ignores the beat his heart skips. “You seem to forget I was running away from you in the first place. You tell him that? That you threw a tantrum and threatened me? Continue to threaten me? How’s that for keeping me ‘under control’?” Tony doesn’t say anything, which only encourages Bruce to continue. It’s hard to keep going, though; he has to clench and release his fists to make his next words. “I Hulked out because of you, Tony. After months of having the Other Guy back under control. You can move me wherever the hell you want to, in the middle of the desert if you have to, but if I come back to stay with you, I’ll be much more of a liability there than I am here.”

Tony paws at the ground with his iron boot. “I need you, Bruce.” Bruce is caught off guard, but he sets his jaw and pretends like nothing happened. Tony is wobbling less now, and Bruce guesses the flight away from his liquor cabinet sobered him up a little bit. “I’ll do—I’d do anything. Detox. I’ll check myself in to rehab, whatever. Just come home. Please.” He might be the only one in the world who’s heard Tony Stark beg, and he knows somewhere else that’s not quite true. Bruce holds the Iron Man suit around the wrist, looks Tony in the eye. He means it, he’s sure of that.

“It’s not that easy. That’s not enough.” Tony makes a pained, angry expression, but for once he doesn’t move, doesn’t throw anything, doesn’t punch the rubber tree next to him. He’s just standing there taking it. Bruce doesn’t have room to feel guilty, though. “You put me through Hell, Tony. I can’t trust you at the drop of your hat.”

“This is all my fault,” Tony says in a whisper, and Bruce can’t think to do anything beyond nodding slowly, rubbing the back of his hand over Tony’s face. He forgot humanity, staying in the jungle. Feeling Tony again under his fingers… he can’t truthfully say to himself he wants to run from it again. Tony smiles at him, a broken smile, and Bruce’s stomach sinks to his feet. “I hurt you, Bruce. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry—“ The sobs he’d been holding back for so long come out in hard, painful-looking shakes, and Bruce watches Iron Man slide to his knees.

Bruce opens and closes his mouth several times before he manages to say anything to him. “I want to come back.” Tony looks up, a genuine smile on his face even though his eyes are ringed with red and puffy. “You have to—you _have_ to stay sober. Otherwise I’m right back out again.” Tony nods for a long time, and Bruce is pulled down into his lap, into the sloppiest kiss he’s ever been a part of. A weight lifts off his shoulders, and he finds himself smiling for the first time in months.

The sick crackling of a tree trunk being bent backwards makes both of their heads turn, and Bruce’s eyes go impossibly wide. 

“No.”


End file.
